And You Would Smile (And That Would Be Enough)
by KeepSaying
Summary: 5 times Tony helps pull Peter away from an anxiety built cliff and the 1 time Peter is on his own. (Rated T for language. Just to be safe.)
1. The Real Deal

**A/N** : Sending love to everyone out there suffering from anxiety and any other form of mental illness. Y'all valid and important and loved.

* * *

"Need help with that tie?"

"Nah", he called back to his mentor, eyes never leaving his reflection in the full length mirror in his room. He was sure he looked ridiculous with his dress shirt only halfway tucked into the waistband of his pants and his tongue between his teeth as he tried to concentrate on tying the tie in question. "Aunt May helped me learn how to do it for Homecoming."

He didn't look up when he heard Tony start snickering from where he was leaning against the doorframe and instead slipped the wide end down through the loop. He then pulled on the wide end and adjusted the knot, taking in his tie tying talents with a frown but ultimately shrugged and decided it would have to suffice.

"Good job, kiddo," he heard the older man's voice from behind him and he met his eyes in the mirror as he went to tuck in his shirt. The voice was warm and the smile was proud. Peter beamed up at the man who had gotten it into his head to tell him he did good at least once a day, something about positive reinforcement that he had talked to May about.

Now, his aunt and his mentor being on texting basis was a little worrying but it also meant that they weren't fighting, so he took their weekly co-parenting meetings in stride and simply enjoyed being fussed over.

The knot wasn't particularly great, if he was being honest, but knowing Tony Stark – the master of dressing up – approved made him feel a little less nervous about it. With his shirt now successfully tucked in, he started slipping the cuffs the billionaire had insisted he get him, through the holes and closed them up. Once that was done – he had gotten quicker at that – he turned around, taking the navy suit jacket from his desk chair and looked up. His silent _Is this okay?_ was met with a curt nod and another smile.

"You wanna take your Pal?" Tony asked as Peter turned to walk past him and at the glare the teenager shot him, added, "You do know we made this thing so you could carry it with you at all times, right?"

The kid huffed indignantly and it sounded so childlike that Tony couldn't suppress an amused snort. "I'm not gonna take my anxiety plushy to a Stark Industries party", he insisted and pushed past his mentor who followed hot on his heels.

"But are you feeling anxious about it?" The question held no malice and no judgement but a concern so genuine that Peter immediately felt bad for his annoyance and he slowed his steps until they were on the same level and he met Tony's eyes.

"Maybe a little bit," he confessed, "I mean it's a pretty official thing and there are going to be a lot of people I can potentially embarrass myself in front. Or worse, I could embarrass you but I'm generally trying not to think about it."

The billionaire raised his characteristic eyebrow and Peter floundered. "Not in an unhealthy 'I'm ignoring my anxiety' way," he was quick to add, "But I'm trying not to freak out too much and I mean I've got you there, right? Why would I need my Ironman plushy when I can have the real deal?"

* * *

As it turned out, the perk of a plushy, as opposed to his superhero billionaire mentor, was the fact that no one could call it away to talk to important people. No, his plushy would've stayed by his side when Tony had to leave it for a bit. That had been two minutes ago and he was already regretting his decision, painfully aware of how his thoughts continued to race each other in his mind in self- destructive circles.

The evening had started out so well, too.

They had made their entrance together, a lot less spectacularly than all of Tony's other entrances to previous events like these but still heart-skippingly exciting for Peter who had never experienced the amount of people and cameras lunging at them as soon as they entered before. He knew that this wasn't even the worst Tony had experienced and he was incredibly grateful for being tucked into his mentor's side throughout the ordeal.

The man was fighting the vulture that was the public eye on his behalf, always with a big smile on his face but with a look in his eyes that told them unmistakably what he'd do if they came too close to Peter. And it worked. For the most parts they kept away.

Tony had introduced him to a few influential people after that, highlighting how smart he supposedly was, how he had helped so much in developing the StarkPals and dropping hints here and there to a guy from MIT who, as soon as he got the message, ended up talking to Peter about college choices and his views on their current educational system. It was nice to swap ideas and thoughts on these things with people who came from a different place but had a lot more influence.

Peter wasn't at Tony's side all of the time, either. As the host Tony made his rounds through the guests, easily conversing with all of them, charming them and not taking their ass-kissing too seriously. He always made sure to keep himself in Peter's line of sight, though. The teenager wasn't even sure if it was done intentionally or if his mentor actually didn't like leaving him alone any more than he wanted to be left alone.

At some point, though, Peter's eyes had lost Tony and as soon as he had realized it, he excused himself from the man he was talking to and started searching the crowd for the billionaire. At first it wasn't too bad. He stood to the sides when other groups passed him, smiled politely at the people and held on to his soft drink.

It started to become a problem after he couldn't find him for another seven minutes and he could've sworn he already went through every part of the location.

Suddenly he became acutely aware of his hands shaking ever so slightly and his enhanced hearing – that he had tried to use to help in locating his mentor – became too much. He knew he was heading dangerously fast for an anxiety induced sensory overload and immediately he tried to step out, hoping the fresh air would help in clearing his head a little bit.

It was just his luck that as he had left the ear-numbingly loud room, a waiter outside tripped which resulted in a cacophony of noises that made him flinch so hard he accidentally crushed the glass in his hands, earning himself worried cries and too many people trying to fuss around him.

God, he couldn't breathe. There were so many people there suddenly. They were looking at him. At him and his bloody hands and the shards of glass that surrounded him.

Why couldn't they go away? Why did they have to keep looking?

Where was Tony?

Peter barely suppressed a sob before bolting back inside, not caring for how his hands were burning with small cuts and not reacting when he bumped into other guests who were trying to see what the turmoil was all about. He needed to get out, he needed to get away from everyone.

He could feel all their eyes on them. His whole body was vibrating with humiliation, his eyes were burning with tears he fought back and his legs were shaking with every step he took.

Finally he reached the men's room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he dropped to the floor, burying his face in his hand, not caring how his blood was starting to color his formerly white shirt bright red.

He was trying to block out everything else but there was too much going on.

The sounds of the chattering guests were coming through the door as if they were screaming directly into his ears. He could smell and taste his own blood that mixed with the tears that were now running down his cheeks freely. The floor was too cold and the heating his back was propped up against was too hot but he couldn't bring himself to move. At least his eyes he could close but there was still light filtering through, no matter how much he tried to curl in on himself.

There was always more input and it didn't even stop there.

His mind kept telling him how much of a fool he had just made of himself, how everyone was talking about him now, and how Tony would never ever be able to look at him again. He was a failure. He, Peter Parker, was a good-for-nothing high schooler that had somehow thought he could be worthy of being a superhero and being mentored by Tony Stark himself.

But he was just Peter Parker, who had nothing and who deserved no more and- _God_ , he just wanted it to stop.

Without warning the door to the bathroom stalls opened and the sounds became even louder, prompting Peter to let out a choked sob that he tried to muffle into his knees. He really didn't want anyone to find him like this. He didn't want any more eyes on him. He just wanted to go home. He wanted May and Tony.

 _Tony_.

"Pete?" he heard his mentor's familiar voice call out quietly and another sob escaped his lips as he looked up to find the man rounding the corner and lay eyes on the miserable kid in the corner furthest from the door.

" _Oh Pete_ r."

Suddenly he was at his side and pulled the bloody hands away from the teenager's face, shushing him so softly that Peter wouldn't have heard it if it hadn't been for his enhanced senses. It gave him something to focus his hearing on, though, so he latched on to the low voice that kept telling him everything was going to be okay.

It was all Peter could do to nod his head, lips still quivering too much to form an actual sentence and he found he didn't have to. Tony understood. He simply pulled him to his chest, not caring in the slightest what it would mean for his designer clothes that Peter was covered in blood.

"What happened, kiddo?", his mentor asked, running a hand along the nape of his neck, "Are you hurt?"

He gave a tiny shake of his head, not daring to move much farther in fear of losing the proximity. With his eyes closed, he let his body go limp in his mentor's hold, his ear finding the older man's heart beat with an instinctual ease and as soon as the sound hit his eardrums he felt some of the tension leave his body and with it started the crying.

The sobs kept rolling through his body, closing up his lungs and shaking up his core. The tears were coming so fast now that he couldn't see but he knew he didn't have to anymore.

He was safe.

There was no place on earth that was safer than Tony Stark's arms.

There was no place in the universe that made Peter feel safer than being tugged inside a embrace so tight that he couldn't feel anything apart from his mentor's hands on his back.

Tony never moved an inch and only when Peter lifted his head from his chest did he relinquish his grip on the boy.

"Better?"

"Yes," Peter whispered, his voice scratchy from crying, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, kiddo," was the reassuring answer and suddenly Peter felt exhausted. All the anxiety and the tears ever left was emptiness, as if all energy had been drained from his body. He hated it. Hated how he could barely lift a finger after an episode. He hated how clingy he got.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, voice muffled by his mentor's ruined suit jacket, "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."

Again the man shushed him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Maybe I shouldn't have brought you to one of these things yet. But you didn't ruin anything."

He wanted to vocally disagree – only one look at his mentor's attire told him just how much he had ruined at least a good set of clothing – but the look in the billionaire's eyes made him stop and nod his head instead.

"'M still sorry," he mumbled into his chest, "Can I just hide in here until everyone has already left?"

Tony scoffed. "Fine. They're already gone anyway, squirt. How do you feel about going home?"

Peter blinked up at him, uncomprehending. "Th- they what?" he stuttered, pushing himself into a seating position, frowning at him. "Why? They've only been here for like two hours or something."

"So?", the man shrugged and rose to his feet before pulling Peter up as well, "They got over the socializing. They were only taking advantage of the free booze at this point. It'll be good for everyone's liver to cut this night short."

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised at how nonchalantly his mentor handled the whole thing. Like it wasn't a big deal that he had just blown one of Stark Industries' biggest events of the year because some teenager was having problems controlling his anxiety, but it still warmed his heart whenever he realized just how much Tony cared about him.

"Thank you, Tony," he whispered quietly and almost choked on his own spit when the older man only stared at him.

"Did you just-," he started, shaking his head ever so slowly, "You did just- I- kid, wow. If this evening brought out anything good at all it's definitely you getting over the whole Mr. Stark thing." It was truly extraordinary to find Tony Stark scrambling for something to say and Peter enjoyed how lost he looked for a moment.

"Let's get out of here and celebrate your achievement with some ice cream, what do you say?"

"Sure, Tony."

His mentor was practically glowing at this point, almost skipping with each step, and Peter couldn't help but grin.

"Oh, and kid?"

"Yeah?"

"I hate the hair gel. It's a lot easier to calm you down when you haven't built a fortress around your curls. And my hands get all sticky from touching it."

"Okay, Tony."

He glared but eventually shrugged. "You know what? I'll take your one word answers if that means you keep calling me Tony."


	2. In Good Company

**A/N** : Thank you so much for your comments! They make me want to write even more (: Hope you enjoy this, too x

* * *

Peter was barely hanging on by a thread.

The music was way too loud, the people way too many and way too close for his comfort. The smells were all over the place – various fast foods, sweat and so many spilled drinks that his feet stuck to the floor even without spider powers. The lights were too much, too, it was harsh even for normal sighted people but it was almost unbearable for him.

He made it through the concert, though. He even managed to convince himself that he was having fun at some point and he joked around with the others, joining them in jumping and dancing and singing along to the songs.

It wasn't that he didn't like Fall Out Boy because he did.

Just a year ago he would've laughed at anyone telling him he'd ever start to enjoy rock music, especially with his enhanced hearing, but after having spent so much time with Tony he had started to get used to it and then had begun actively listening to the genre even without his mentor present. It was a stark contrast to the softer music he usually listened to (that Tony continued to make good natured fun of) but he had learned that it was just the right thing to ground him in moments where he felt too out of it.

But listening to music in a controlled environment at a controlled volume – even with the huge speakers at the Tower – was fundamentally different to listening to the same music live. Hence why he hadn't been too thrilled about going in the first place. Ned had asked him, telling him some other people from their school would go too, and that it would be nice to get out every once in a while. And, most importantly, it was _Fall Out Boy_! Ned's favorite band ever since elementary school.

He had been looking forward to it, too. Ned had been right, going out with other people their age every once in a while was a good thing and even May and Tony had supported the idea, only giving him about three speeches about staying safe and keeping away from strangers and to call should he need them.

It had gone okay so far. The music was loud but he had managed to enjoy himself anyway, covering up how uncomfortable he felt at times, by sticking to Ned's side as much as he could, grateful that his best friend didn't seem to mind his clinginess too much.

Now, though, the opening act Rise Against had just finished and there was a break until Fall Out Boy would come out. They had watched them start cleaning off the stage and bringing on the new instruments for a while before some girls had seen Rise Against settle somewhere near the entrance to give autographs and take pictures with fans and of course they wanted to go.

Ned had been thrilled but Peter had only needed one look at the huge crowd surrounding the musicians to know that there was no way he could actually go through that and not have a full blown anxiety attack. So he had resigned himself to just stay there and wait for them to come back.

His best friend, god bless him, had not wanted to go and leave Peter on his own and it had taking him some convincing until he went. He didn't want to keep Ned from enjoying a normal life every once in a while just because he was so messed up. And he knew that he would protest could he hear Peter's thoughts but he couldn't help but feel bad for making his friend have to put up with so much of his crap.

They went then, not without Ned telling him over and over again to call if he needed him, and now Peter was standing alone in the middle of the crowd, the feeling of his inadequacy suddenly burning bright in his belly and making his eyes sting.

 _No._ He refused to give into the anxiety that he had been able to keep at bay up until now.

Peter looked around him, watching the people around him converse with each other lightly and laugh loudly. They all looked so relaxed and he hated that he couldn't be one of them. He hated that his normal had never contained this ease around other people that everyone else seemed to have.

He sighed, trying out some of the breathing patterns he had taught himself a while ago, to calm his increasingly beating heart in his chest. There was not much else he could do right now, so he started to walk around a little, looking for spots that were a little less crowded and a little more quiet.

He ended up settling down in a corner in the far back, sinking to the floor with dread coiling in his stomach. Somehow it got worse now that he was alone and didn't have to hold himself together anymore because no one could see him break down here. No one would notice some teenager succumbing to his anxiety here, they'd just think he'd have too much to drink.

Feeling the tears prick at his eyes once more, he wiped them away with a huff.

 _Weak_. _Pathetic_. _Freak_.

Ugh. No. He needed a distraction. Something. Anything to keep his mind off of the self- loathing he could feel etched in every bone and clinging to his skin. He didn't want to go down that road. Not now. (Not ever, really, but he wasn't stupid enough to even consider that possibility.)

Fighting against his own voice in his head, he pulled out his phone and unlocked it, staring at the bright screen blankly for a few minutes. What was he supposed to do now? Play Tetris? No, even something as simple as Tetris felt too stressful right now.

A message pinged and he felt the corner of his lips turn up ever so slightly.

 **Tony:** _Hey kiddo. Having fun?_

Not too long ago the billionaire superhero had been in his contacts as 'Mr. Stark' much to his own dismay and not too long before that, he hadn't had his number at all. Now _Tony_ texted him on a daily basis even when they would see each other later anyway, just checking up on him every once in a while.

 _All good_ , he typed adding a happy emoji that was so far from what he was currently feeling that he had to swallow past the growing lump in his throat when he hit send.

Maybe he should text his aunt, too, so she wouldn't worry.

 _Hey Aunt May! The opening act is done and we're waiting for Fall Out Boy now_ , he scoffed inwardly at the pronoun. There was no we. There was only him, hiding in the darkest corner he could find because he was being a baby again. _Hope you're having a good night! Love you!_ He added two heart emojis and, satisfied with how it sounded, sent the message.

The teenager was about to put his phone away again – the bright screen doing nothing in helping him keep his sanity – when Tony's reply flashed up.

 **Tony** : _Then why are you texting?_

Before Peter could form a reply that didn't sound as pathetic as he felt, a new message got in.

 **Tony:** _How are you holding up? You didn't take the plushy, did you?_

He almost rolled his eyes at how well his mentor knew him but he also felt a blush creep into his cheeks. Why did everyone have to know how messed up he was? Why did he have to be someone who needed some anxiety plushy in the first place? He loved it, he really did. But he hated that he needed it.

Before he could reply May's reply came in and pulled him out of his thoughts.

 **Aunt May:** _Okay, sweetie._ _Have fun and text me when you get to the Tower! Love you, too xx_

Once more he looked up, feeling small in the way he was hiding from the rest of the world. Ned and the rest of the group were still standing in line for the autographs in from the looks of it they would probably take a while. Looking back down in hope of being completely invisible, he started to type a reply.

 _I'm fine._ He paused. Sending this would almost definitely earn him a worried phone call and he really rather not put any unnecessary attention on him, so he added another, _Ned and the others are getting autographs before the band starts playing. I'm waiting for them to come back_.

Satisfied, he sent the message. At least this one didn't sound like he was curled up in a dark corner, blocking out his surroundings as much as he could. He didn't have to wait long for the reply and he felt himself feel grateful for the distraction his mentor was – intentionally or unintentionally – providing.

 **Tony:** _Autographs too cool for you, kid?_

He actually grinned, feeling some of the tension leak out of his shoulders.

 _Don't need some band's autographs when I've got yours, do I?_

 **Tony:** _Since when do you have my autograph? Did you steal some of my stuff and I'm gonna find it on ebay in a few weeks?_

 **Tony:** _Please tell me you didn't take used tissues or stole leftovers out of the trash._

Peter laughed at the mental image of the billionaire mockingly freaking out over him selling his stuff online. The smile felt foreign on his lips now after his face had been tense with anxiety for hours.

 _Nah, you know me. Wouldn't give away food._ He typed, his lips still tugged upwards slightly. _I've had it ever since the Stark Expo 2010. You signed it right after the opening ceremony. I was the kid with the Ironman mask._

He frowned when the reply took longer that time, worry starting to reform in his belly. Tony Stark wouldn't remember some random kid he signed some random picture for. He signed stuff all the time. And while it might've been Peter's dream come true when his hero had said something along the lines of 'I'll you see you later' while patting his self-made Ironman helmet, he doubted the man had even realized he had done so.

His phone pinged with another message before he could spiral too deep.

 **Tony:** _That the only time you've been to that Expo?_

 _No. We went as often as Aunt May and Uncle Ben let me. It was the best thing ever!_

For the first time that night, his anxiety got overshadowed by the memory of how excited he had been back then. Ironman had been his hero ever since he first saw him on TV and knowing that he was smart, too? Smart like Peter who was being picked on for it? And then seeing so much knowledge and innovation in one place? It had made his life.

 **Tony** : _Please tell me you weren't there the day the drones attacked._

 **Tony:** _Peter. Tell me you weren't that kid that tried to fight the Hammer drones with his fake repulsor._

 _Uh, I wasn't that kid that tried to fight the Hammer drones with his fake repulsor?_

 _Though, in my defense, they looked like the real deal. And you did safe me. So it was all good._

 **Tony:** _You're grounded._

 _What?_ Peter typed though he couldn't help but laugh. _What for?_

The reply came instantly.

 **Tony:** _Making me go grey way too early. You know how much my hairdresser costs?_

 _You've been grey before you even met me._ He quipped lightly.

 **Tony:** _Considering we met at the Expo I have to disagree. Way to go, kid. Taking years off my life since 2010._

Something in him was thriving at the idea of Tony Stark remembering him from years before they ever really talked to each other. Everyone had always told him off for worshipping Ironman so much and for telling everyone that his hero had saved him specifically. 'He saved so many people, Pete. He won't remember saving you.'

He hadn't wanted to believe them and had drawn images of Ironman flying in to save the day for years after. And knowing that he actually did remember? It was another reminder of how much better Tony Stark was than he let on.

 _Sorry_ , he replied with a monkey emoji that was covering his eyes, _Still love me?_

Here was the thing.

Peter Parker knew that his mentor loved him like his son. And he knew that the man knew how he felt about him.

He also knew that Tony Stark wasn't as comfortable expressing emotions as he was.

It was something he had struggled to get used to after only ever having known the Parker family's way to go about this which was pretty straightforward. They had found their middle way of Tony not shying away from confronting his feelings and Peter not expecting too much too fast. Still, he worried whenever he put himself out there like that. Worried he sounded too needy and reminded the billionaire that he wasn't really worthy of his time.

 **Tony:** _Only 'cause you've grown on me like a fungus._

 **Tony:** _Kidding. Of course I love you, kid._

He smiled brightly at the screen and when he looked up next, to blink the happy tears away, he saw Ned making his way towards where they had left him earlier.

 _Gotta go_. He texted back quickly. _Ned's coming back and the band is about to start playing._

 **Tony:** _Have fun, kid. Are you feeling better?_

 _Loads. Thank you for keeping me company. And sorry for the grey hair. I love you, too, btw._

 **Tony:** _Happy'll pick you up after. Text me if you need anything._

Peter grinned as he jumped up and started walking back to where his friend was looking for him. Waving so he wouldn't worry.

"You okay, Peter?" Ned asked with a worried frown and the teenager couldn't help but beam up at his best friend before replying honestly.

"I'm really good."

It was the truth. Everything was still a lot to handle for him and he was still feeling anxious but with his best friend by his side and with Tony having his back, he felt that he could defeat about anything.

 _Thank god_ _for text messages_ , he thought to himself, when the first notes came through the speakers, and for Tony always reading between the lines even when he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone.

* * *

 **A/N** : If you have a tumblr and enjoy Irondad fanart and fanfiction you can check out **weartirondad** , a blog I run with my best friend. We're really close to 1k followers and we'll do a few prompts once we reach that. xx


	3. How Good Can I Be?

**A/N** : Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm not really happy with this one, it kind of feels like a filler, but I've got almost all of this story already written and I'm looking forward to sharing the rest with you :) Tell me what you think! x

* * *

Peter couldn't sleep.

He'd been lying in bed for almost an hour now, tossing and turning, and he was still wide awake. His mind wouldn't shut up and with every scenario it came up with, his heart started beating faster.

Rolling over onto his back, he pressed his index and middle finger to his neck, finding his pulse point with ease and mentally willing it to slow down.

 _Deep breaths, Peter. Just even out your breathing._

To no avail. His breathing continued to come out in sharp gasps and he didn't seem to be able to control it at all. For a moment he pressed down harder on his skin, his nails digging into his flesh, but almost immediately he let go and let his arm drop down uselessly next to his body again. He clenched it to a fist instead, beating down on his mattress in frustration.

His eyes fluttered open for what felt like the hundredth time that night and he stared at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling he had helped pin there when Tony had first introduced him to his own room at the Tower. Of course he had started looking up constellations and had carefully chosen one that included Ursa major and minor and the North Star. It was the guiding star, always helping him find his way back home. And home, he had learned long ago, didn't only have to be one place. It didn't even have to be a location in the first place. Home for him was his family – Aunt May and Tony.

It calmed him down just a little bit to see the reminder of his home directly in front of him but it didn't last very long. The doubt came back with a force that knocked the breath out of him and instinctually his hand reached to his frantically beating heart. Desperately he tried to distract himself by taking stock of the rest of his room.

Without his mind forming the command, his hands reached out to tug his Ironman plushy to him, burying his chin in the fabric that had long since started to smell like home while his fingers played with the intricate details. He sat up in his bed, hugging his knees to his chest with the plushy on top, and leaning against the collection of pillows on his bed with his back, and tried to concentrate on the small little details Tony had helped him put up in his second bedroom.

The shelf right across from his bed held all his favorite books and some scientific journals Tony had gotten him that he was still working his way through, in alphabetical order of course. On the top shelf stood all Star Wars movies in order of release and he almost smiled at the _too much_ that was his mentor. He already had all those movies at home with May and when they watched them they usually only let F.R.I.D.A.Y. play it from her database. There was no reason for Tony to get him another copy of the movies except for Peter being ridiculously excited when confronted with the purchase.

The same had happened to his wardrobe. The first time he had opened the closet he hadn't been able to stop his mouth from falling open. There was an entire new wardrobe, complete with both science pun shirts and fancy suits that he didn't even dare to ask the price of. A little off to the side, in front of the full-length windows overlooking the city sat two bean bags, one red and one dark blue, still littered with the action figures Ned and him had played with last week.

And there was the huge desk standing under one of the big windows that was covered in his unfinished homework, as well as a few blue prints of a robot he was working on with Tony and the cause of his current panic – his project for this year's Science Fair.

He felt the familiar panic rise in his chest just by looking at the half finished thing.

It was the main reason for him to be spending the second weekend at the Tower in a row – so that Tony could help him finish it. And he was helping. His mentor was doing everything exactly right, he was always letting Peter do the actual thinking and only butted in when the boy was stuck or on the wrong track. He made sure that this project was actually Peter's and not Tony's while never leaving him alone with it. The teenager was immensely grateful but it was the same reason that had him so worried.

How good could something that Peter Parker made actually be?

He buried his face in the plushy, trying to calm his beating heart by listening to the recording of Tony's but he knew himself well enough by now that it wouldn't be helping much. He was too agitated already and his thoughts running too fast and too far for him to be able to tame them on his own.

Carefully he slipped out of his bed, his naked feet hitting the soft carpet instead of the cold floor but he didn't have the emotional capacity to feel grateful for Tony's thoughtfulness like he normally would. No, his mind was too occupied with pointing out all the flaws on the small battery he had built that was supposed to run completely on renewable energy.

The teenager stopped for a moment, suddenly uncertain where he wanted to go in the first place. He just felt the need to get out of his room, away from the nightmare that was his own incapability, and just like that his feet started carrying him towards the elevator.

His plan was to go down to the lab and maybe look over some of his web formulas, the one thing he truly felt he was doing a good job at, but that was thwarted when he got to the living area and found his mentor sitting on one of the loveseats, staring straight ahead at a dark TV screen.

The image made him halt and curl his hand more firmly around his plushy. It was in this moment that he saw the dark rings under the older man's eyes and the lines creasing his face telling of the weight of the world he was continuously carrying on his shoulders. He looked tired and broken and Peter hated seeing him like that.

"T-Tony?" he asked, his own voice sounding foreign in his ears and oh so quiet.

With the reaction he got, he might as well have been screaming. Wide eyes finding his with a look of terror before his mentor realized who was standing just a few feet away from him.

"Pete?" His voice was hoarse from not being used in a good hour and it had Peter make his way to the couch without a second thought. "Can't sleep?" Tony asked as the teenager curled up next to him and reached out so he could tug himself more comfortably into the billionaire's side.

He hummed contently when rough calloused fingers found their way into his hair and started rubbing soothing patterns onto his scalp. His face was buried into Tony's t-shirt and he was still hugging his plushy to his stomach. In that moment he felt incredibly small and taken care of.

Instead of vocally answering he shook his head and leaned into the calming touch. "You?"

His mentor let out a harsh laugh but never stopped with the motion, "When can I ever sleep?" he asked without humor and it really told Peter a lot about his state of mind. Tony never admitted to his weaknesses in front of him. Not if it could be helped.

They were quiet for a moment after that, both basking in the feeling of not being alone, and the teenager could feel his heart rate returning to a pace at least somewhat akin to normal. He felt comfortable enough to let his eyes drop close and was surprised when it was his mentor who broke the silence.

"The Accords have been nullified for now until we can work out something that guarantees enhanced individuals basic human rights," he told him in a quiet voice that was, even in its softness, laced with something Peter couldn't quite identify but that called to some deeply ingrained instinct in him to _protect_. He did the only thing he could think of and buried his face more fully into his mentor's chest and threw one arm, and his plushy, onto his stomach, hugging him. He felt the chuckle vibrate through his own body and it made him smile, having accomplished a reaction that wasn't dread.

"Does that mean they'll come back to New York?" he wanted to know quietly and almost wanted to take the words back when he felt the arms around him tighten almost painfully when Tony nodded.

"I mean the Avenger's Compound kind of calls for the Avengers to assemble there, don't ya think?" He tried to make light of it but the teenager had spent enough time with him to know when he was faking it.

"Are you going to move there, too?"

"Nah." And for the first time that night there was a smile in the billionaire's voice as he pressed a kiss to the top of Peter's head. "Can't leave you here all on your lonesome, can I?"

He grinned. "Nope. I don't think your heart could take it."

"Oh, really?" Tony huffed in amusement, "My heart would be fine if you would be more considerate of the unnecessary danger you're always looking for. Speaking of," he turned in his seat slightly and pushed Peter a little off of him gently, "Why are you out and about? Did you have a nightmare?"

He shook his head, trying to lean back into his mentor's side and scowling when he wouldn't let him.

"I couldn't fall asleep. I kept- uh- thinking," he settled on eventually.

His hero didn't seem too impressed, giving him a scrutinizing look but let him settle back into his embrace anyway. "And what were you thinking about?"

"Stuff?" he tried, his voice sounding muffled with how he tried to hide in the other man's shirt.

Suddenly the fingers that had been carding through his hair the entire time were gone and he let out an involuntary whimper prompting them to return to their former activity.

"Just- I'm worried," he added silently after a moment and already he could feel his anxiety returning, although a lot less vigorously than before. "The Science Fair is less than a week away and there's so much I still need to get done. And, I mean, even if we do get it done in time I still have to present it and there's so much that could go wrong a-and I-," he stuttered, "I don't want to disappoint anyone, least of all Aunt May and you. A-and I don't want to make a fool out of myself. I just wish I wasn't so scared of the dumbest shit all the time. I hate it."

"You could never disappoint anyone. Least of all your aunt and me," Tony told him seriously and so solemnly and honestly that Peter couldn't help but believe him. "We know exactly what you're capable of and we know how hard it is for you sometimes. But you know what? You still go and do the stuff that scares you and that's why we couldn't be any prouder of you if we tried. You're the bravest kid I know, kid."

"That's because you don't know any kids," he replied sniffling, "You wouldn't know that there's anyone better out there."

"I do, though. I know you're the best kid." Peter felt his mentor's smile against his head and shrugged half-heartedly.

"Everyone says that about their kid."

It said a lot about their relationship at this point that Peter didn't even flinch when the words left his lips.

"Yeah, but you're _my_ kid so that's gotta mean something, right?"

The teenager nodded, too tired to reply and comfortable enough to let his eyes fall close and snuggle a little closer still. His mentor seemed to realize it, too, because he pulled him a little bit closer and lowered his voice a notch.

"We've got the entire weekend to work on your battery and I promise you, we'll get it done in time," he whispered in his ear, "It's gonna be the best thing out there simply because you made it. And we'll go through your presentation at least a hundred times before you have to do it and you'll be fine. I will always have your back. And so will May. And so will Ned. You're never alone, kiddo."

"Got your back, too," he mumbled barely coherent as he let Tony's words lull him to sleep. "'We're a team."

"Damn straight we are."

Tony let the teenager fall back asleep on him, reassured by the steady _thumb-thumb_ of his heart against his own chest. They had adverted yet another crisis and from the looks of it his kid would get a good night's sleep at least today and he'd take it. Every achievement, no matter how small it might seem, that improved Peter's wellbeing was an achievement he would always thank the heavens for and that he'd celebrate loudly and for everyone to hear.

When he was sure that the boy was fully asleep he picked him up in his arms, carefully adjusting his hold on him so he wouldn't jostle him, and carried him back to his room. Thankfully he had made sure Peter was always close by so he didn't have to go too far.

"Love you, bud," he whispered softly when he had successfully managed to set him down on his bed and tugged him in, brushing away a few loose strands from his forehead without waking him up. "You're the best, no matter what your anxiety keeps telling you."

He stood up quietly, suppressing a groan at how the joints in his knees and back creaked with the motion, and turned around to look at the almost finished project.

It was a huge task Peter had set himself but so far the kid had risen up to the challenge and had surpassed even his expectations. There was literally no reason for him to worry about it not being good enough. Still, he knew him too well to hope it would just go away once the thing was finished.

Tony had never known a pain like this. An ache so visceral that it spread from his heart into even the most secluded parts of his body because _his kid was hurting_.

He sighed again, wishing once more that he could take all the pain from his boy and shoulder it himself. But he had learned that he couldn't do that the hard way. The only thing he could do was be there for him whenever he needed him, to support him and hold him up when he couldn't stand on his own.

Picking up one of the post-it notes Peter's desk was covered in, he started scribbling a few words of encouragement and a tiny doodle on it that he knew would lift the teenager's spirit as soon as he woke up. He stuck it to his night table and smiled at how he had already managed to curl his entire body around his plushy, before he left.

Peter would be okay.


	4. Change Of Plans

**A/N** : Hellooo :) Again, thank you for your kind words and the faves and follows. Hope you enjoy this x

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"Got the laser pointer?"

Peter nodded, having checked five times already, but started patting the breast pocket of his jacket for the by now familiar bulge anyway. The denim piece of clothing was a good, and expensive, fit that Tony had insisted on buying him for his presentation. Underneath it he had been allowed to wear a new science pun shirt curtesy of Ned.

When he had presented the light green shirt to his mentor the man had simply raised a not-at-all-impressed eye brow but had eventually conceded that Peter would feel a lot more comfortable wearing something he felt – well –comfortable in. He had insisted on color-coordinated converse, though, so he could wear his green 'I'm N Er Dy but only periodically' pun written in chemical elements in style.

"Yes I've got it," he sighed, eyes flickering over to where his aunt was standing holding on to part of his microbial fuel cell. She smiled brightly at him and it actually made his stomach settle a little. Especially when Tony butted in again, waving the gloves, he would need for the presentation later, in front of his eyes with the confidence only a Tony Stark could broadcast so easily.

"You wanna go through it again?"

He couldn't help the small grin that tugged on the corner of his lips at May's nervous question. Between her and Tony they must've listened to his practiced talk about a hundred times and still they never tired of it, giving him the same undivided attention on his last trial as on his first one. By now he barely needed his flashcards anymore, knowing the words and his slides inside out.

Ned had helped him animate some of the instructions to his project on the slides and they looked rather cool, if he did say so himself. He wouldn't be alone on stage either, his best friend would be there to assist him with the mud he needed to power the cell.

Peter breathed out very deliberately, calming his fluttering heart easily with some breathing techniques.

 _It would be okay._

And afterwards May and Tony would take him out for dinner and they'd start on the next season of Brooklyn 99.

 _It would be okay._

"Where's your guy in the chair anyway?" The billionaire was turning right and left in search for Peter's friend and now that he mentioned it, Peter frowned too. It wasn't like Ned to run late to something important and he only had another twenty minutes before the first presentation started.

"Uh, I think," he raised on his tiptoes to get a better look, trying to swallow the rising panic before it started to take over his body. "He should be-"

 _It would be okay._

He almost jumped up on the ceiling when his phone started vibrating in the pocket of his new jacket and he was glad for May's hand holding on to his wrist, keeping him grounded.

 **Guy In The Chair** : My mom won't let me come in today

 **Guy In The Chair** : I'm contagious

 **Guy In The Chair** : Caught a bad stomach bug or something

 **Guy In The Chair** : I'm so sorry Peter

 **Guy In The Chair** : You're gonna rock that show, though

 **Guy In The Chair** : I'm crossing all my fingers!

 **Guy In The Chair** : It's gonna be okay

Suddenly breathing was a lot harder, as if each message had put an additional weight on his chest that his ribcage simply wasn't equipped to handle. His hands were shaking and on instinct he wrapped his fingers around May's sleeve, grabbing so hard onto the fabric that a part in him feared he would tear it.

The other part, though, the one that was currently taking up front and center in his brain was working furiously on not freaking out while simultaneously completely losing anything that had ever resembled cool.

 _ItwouldbeokayItwouldbeokayItwouldbeokay_

He tried breathing through the unyielding iron cage that had become his chest and leaned into the comforting presence of both his aunt and his mentor who had entered his personal space, crowding him in an effort to shield him from the crowd. Distantly he felt grateful for their attempt but he was still struggling to get any words out.

"It's okay, Pete," Tony reassured him, having read the messages over his shoulder, "Either May or myself can take his place."

The teenager nodded mechanically, not really listening to the older man's words but the jerking of his head managed to pull him out of his trance.

His aunt joined in with a small smile, "You know I've handled my share of dirt over the years running after you. I'm totally up for the job."

That actually got a chuckled out of him, though it still sounded choked but breathing got easier once again and he managed to crack something akin to a smile in return. "Yeah, that'd be great," he all but whispered with a hoarse voice that was doing nothing to hide his rising anxiety.

 _It's okay_ , he typed back, concentrating on how Tony's hands were drawing soothing patterns on the base of his neck while May was doing the same on his wrist, _Get better soon._

Okay.

A tiny change in plans was totally not the end of the world. Not even close. He could totally absolutely do that. Who cared whether May or Ned were up on stage with him, anyway? No one would even know that Ned was supposed to be there. May knew the procedure, too. And her presence would actually help calm him down.

Yes. He breathed.

 _It would be okay._

"You good, squirt?"

"Peachy," he replied, proud that his voice almost didn't waver at the word.

"Mr. Parker?"

Oh no.

That was Mrs. Sander's voice. His favorite chemistry teacher who so happened to organize this year's Science Fair. If she had something to tell him then it probably had to do with the logistics of his presentation and at this point he was scared any news would be bad news. But surely she just wanted to remind him when he was on, not tell him of something that had gone terribly wrong and-

"Oh good, there you are," she caught up to them, clipboard pressed to her chest and an apologetic look in her eyes, "The projector just died. You'll need to do the presentation without your slides. No one will be able to use any of the tech. We should've really tried harder to get the new tech in time for today." She sighed and it took all of Peter's strength (and Tony standing directly behind him) to not fall apart right then and there. "I'm sure you won't need it anyway," she added cheerfully before turning around with one last wave, "I'm really excited to see what you have worked on."

He had changed his mind.

Everything would most definitely not be okay.

It wouldn't even be halfway to okay.

Everything would be a total disaster and he wouldn't get a word out and everyone would laugh at him and he would have to drop out of school and maybe move cities and, god, May would have to look for a new job and, oh no, Tony would be so embarrassed.

"I, uh-" He ripped his hand from May's grasp and clasped both hands in front of his mouth. He could already feel his stomach acid rise, etching its way through his esophagus.

Yeah. No.

He let out a small whimper before bolting for the bathroom without thinking about it. Distantly he realized that he as bumping into other people on his way. He was too busy to get to a toilet before throwing up to bring himself to care about any of the surprised shrieks that followed him. As soon as he had reached an empty stall – thank god no one was in so shortly before the presentations would start – he let himself fall to his knees before leaning his back against the wall across from the door, tucked in between the toilet and the side of the stall.

"Breathe, Peter," he tried to call himself out, fists drumming against the cold tiles, but his voice came out choked and he struggled to keep his composure, instead curling up on himself as much as he could to block everything else out. He pressed his hands to his mouth again to stop himself from hyperventilating but it only made him breathe harder to try to breathe away a sob that wanted to fall from his lips.

God, he was a mess.

He was a goddamn _failure_ who couldn't go through one normal high school experience without ending up in a bathroom stall in fetal position. Why couldn't he be nervous like everyone else? A little flutter in his stomach? Why did his nervous have to be a volcano erupting and frying everything the lava could reach? Why did his normal have to involve anxiety? Why couldn't the spider bite have taken that away?

He would gladly give away his stickiness, for a week of not being on the verge of a breakdown. He just wanted-

Hushed voices stopped him mid-thought. He couldn't be as unlucky as-

"May, get the hell in here. Who _cares_ about your gender right now just-"

Aunt May. And Tony.

The relief came instantly at hearing their frantic heartbeats in the small otherwise empty bathroom. It uncoiled something deep in his stomach and he let out a choked sob that felt like every demon clawing at his insides all at once.

"Oh baby."

Suddenly his aunt was there, pulling him up ever so gently until his head was resting on her shoulder. He turned his head into the soft fabric of her sweater that smelled like home.

"It's okay, buddy."

Tony was there, too, his calloused hand finding Peter's wrist and pressing down on his pulse point, drumming a steady beat into his skin that he tried to match his breathing to while May started rubbing soothing circles next to his ear, trying not to destroy his gelled up hairstyle.

For a moment they were both quiet, giving Peter the time to breathe but not enough to focus on how they needed to baby him again which would result in another – No. Before his mind could wander there, Tony's voice broke through the quiet.

"I used to get really nervous before going on stage," he told him and in this empty bathroom stall in a school full of genius people preparing for a Science Fair it sounded like the most important secret in the universe.

Peter let his eyes fall close, focusing on the steady voice that never wavered, that would always lead him back home.

"The first time my d-" he cleared his throat, "The first time _Howard_ sent me on some kind of stage I was seven years old. I had just built my first engine and I was so sure he'd be proud of me for it." Peter knew how much it cost the billionaire to not scoff at his own words and he was grateful that the man seemed to understand that he needed him to be calm and gentle just then.

"So when he told me I would get to present my engine to him and some people that were coming over that day, I thought I had finally gotten his approval." Tony sighed. "Turned out he left the room the second I started talking with some business associate or another. I was just the distraction for the rest of them. The ones important enough to get invited but not important enough to get a private audience with the one and only Howard Stark."

The drumming on his wrist stopped and, without meaning to, he let out a soft whimper at the loss of constant. It started back up immediately and when Tony spoke next there was a small smile in his voice despite the words coming out.

"I had Jarvis help me plan every little thing I wanted to say that I knew he would like. Or, at least had hoped he would like, and then, when he left everything was gone. Vanished. My brain was empty and I just wanted to run away and cry because what did it matter, right? Obviously I was too much of a screw up for even my father to listen to, why would anyone else?"

May shifted and Peter with her until he was squished between both adults. He was confused for a minute before he realized his aunt was actually comforting Tony, too, and it made him settle more fully between the two people that made up his little makeshift family.

It seemed to give the billionaire the emotional support he needed, too, because he continued. "But my mom was sitting in the first row and she hadn't yet seen the engine yet and she seemed so excited. Her eyes-" the grip on Peter's wrist tightened for a bit before the teenager freed his arm and latched on to his mentor's sleeve instead, knowing exactly how to tug at the fabric to get him to calm down and focus on Peter instead of his demons.

"Her eyes were twinkling in the dark room with so much love. For me. And beside her, Jarvis was giving me a thumbs up and I had practiced so hard and I really wanted to make them proud." Tony leaned into their group hug and pressed a kiss to the top of Peter's head. "'Cuz they believed in me and they would believe in me even if I screwed this up but I wouldn't. Because they were there."

"So the moral of the story is that you're not going to disinherit me even if I fail?" Peter asked with a small grin, bumping his mentor's shoulder with his own. "I'm very relieved."

"No, you idiot," Tony gave back fondly. "The moral of the story is that it was a pretty good presentation and that I ended up actually engaging my audience in a way that I wouldn't have been able to with Howard there. The moral is that sometimes these things happen and they're awful at first but they're just trying to scare you. If you don't let yourself be scared then they can actually turn out to be even better."

"I am scared, though," he admitted, feeling smaller than ever.

"And that's what we're for, honey," his aunt pushed him away a little so she could meet his eyes. Her thumb found the right spot on his cheek without hesitation after years of practice. "I'll be there on stage and Tony'll cheer you on from the crowd. You're not alone in this."

When they finally emerged from the bathroom, Peter's breathing had mostly evened out and the flutter in his stomach had been reduced to something that he thought could be called normal. His shirt was rumpled where he had curled up on the floor but after one look at Tony's crinkled three piece suit that still looked as if straight out of a fashion magazine, he tried not to feel too self-conscious about it.

As his assistant, May stayed with him the whole time, making the wait backstage a lot easier to bear and even getting him to enjoy the presentations that were on before his. He had caught a glimpse of Tony when the man had wandered off to find a front row seat and he committed his seat number to memory should he need reassurance.

Right before he took the stage he thought about how a seven years old Tony Stark had made it through explaining his first engine to a room full of strangers and he squared his shoulders.

He might not have his mom here or a Jarvis but he had his aunt - a woman as strong as she was gentle - and the actual Tony Stark - billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, genius and sort- of dad.

He had this covered.

"Clean energy is taking over the world," he started, blinking against the bright headlights and feeling the nauseous feeling in his stomach settle for good when his eyes met Tony's that shone with encouragement and love. "And getting your energy from the sun and the wind is a great start, of course, but why should we always have to depend on the weather? Why not take something that's completely unattached to things as fluctuating as the state of our atmosphere? Why not take something that's always there? Why not get our clean energy from dirt?"

Yeah. He would be okay.


	5. Am I Too Late?

Peter's vision was swimming.

He blinked once, twice, three times before the world shifted again and came back into focus.

The teenager was standing in a dark corridor with coppery walls. Or where was the taste in his mouth coming from? His left hand reached out to touch his mouth only to find his skin hitting the cool fabric of his Spider-Man suit. He must be wearing the mask, he realized, and let his hands drop to his side at his find.

If he was in the suit then he must be on a mission. There must be something more important going on than finding out where the coppery taste was coming from.

Peter narrowed his eyes, frantically beating heart settling when his suit complied with the movement. There was always a scarcely audible whirring to be heard when the suit's eyes moved. It was familiar. Calming. His suit was working so he had to be relatively safe. He was Spider-Man after all and he had a suit with the latest Stark technology.

Some of the fear that had taken up residence in his stomach left his body with his next exhale.

"Hello?" he called out and flinched when his voice echoed through the empty hallway, bouncing off the walls until eventually fading into silence once more. "Someone home?"

His feet started moving, hesitantly at first and then more decisively when nothing bad seemed to happen. The sound of his footsteps lingered in the air, making a weirdly uncomfortable melody that trailed behind him and raced him to go faster, to reach the end of the hall.

Peter knew that he had to reach the end of the hall. There was a soft blue light coming from the door this corridor led to and that light felt important. It was his mission to reach the light that was pulsating at a steady frequency. Somehow, he felt that the light needed his protection.

He had almost reached the door with the light when his enhanced hearing picked up on a painful huff. With the scream the light pulses became more erratic, too, urging him on. The sound sent chills through his entire body and, when his brain registered just why the voice sounded so familiar, it ripped straight through his heart, leaving him feeling raw and helpless.

"Tony?" he called, his wobbly voice echoing from the walls, mocking him in tiny whispers from a million different directions. He strained his ears to pick up on a reply but there was nothing.

He had almost convinced himself that his senses were playing a trick on him when the sound came back, a lot closer and sounding a lot more in pain. The light stuttered slightly before returning to a steady but faster pace.

Without a second thought he ran the last distance until his hand was on the door knob, his last obstacle before reaching the blue light and his mentor. He thrusted the door open with all his might, not caring when the wood splintered and the force took it off its hinges.

There, separated from him through a glass pane, sat Tony. The light of the arc reactor in his chest filling the room with an absurd calm considering how weakly it fluttered just then.

For an unbearable second Peter was afraid it would fade completely.

But Tony was still breathing, although the rales that he picked up on through the pane didn't sound very encouraging. He ran forward, willing the blue light to keep pulsating and his mentor to look up.

"Tony!" he screamed, fists hitting the glass pane over and over again, yet it wouldn't budge. Not even a crack in the smooth surface. The refraction of light through the glass looked mockingly beautiful. As if it was any condolence for Peter as long as Tony was still barely breathing. As long as he still looked mostly dead.

"Please, Tony! Look at me," he cried again, not caring about the tears that slipped out and ran down his cheeks. His hands were busy trying to make it through to his mentor.

 _Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead. Please –_

A shudder went through the billionaire's entire body then and there was nothing he could do but pray for the light to keep glowing and – oh god, his limbs were flailing uncontrollably and his head kept hitting the hard cot until the spasm died done.

Peter screamed. Tony looked up. Their eyes met.

"Tony!" he tried again to get through to the pane, not knowing how much the older man could pick up. His eyes widened and at first Peter was so sure it was in recognition but then he tried to scramble away from him in fear, rattling at the metallic cuffs constraining him to the cot and Peter had to watch in horror when he struggled enough to turn the cot on its side. Tony fell but he didn't seem to care, fearful eyes still looking up at Peter.

"No! I- It's me, Tony!" he cried out, pulling off the mask in a swift motion but before his mentor could see his face, his attention was otherwise occupied

Captain America had entered the room, lips curling up in a humorless snarl that made a shiver run down Peter's spine. He looked positively evil when he turned to look at Peter for the fraction of a second before squatting down next Tony to all but throw the cot back up again.

Tony's fear was replaced by anger. His eyes were flashing with unadulterated rage in a way Peter had never ever seen and his fists were curling at his sides, struggling to fight free once more.

"I trusted you," he spit out but Captain America only laughed when Tony coughed up blood and gunk.

Before Captain America could get a word out, Peter was yelling again, doubling the forces of his punches against the glass until – finally – _a crack_.

"Don't hurt him," he kept screaming, "Don't you fucking touch him. Don't- Tony!"

Without batting an eye Cap slammed down his shield onto the weakly fluttering light and Peter, still on the other side of the pane, could do nothing but watch and scream and riot when it flickered before going black.

The American superhero was towering over the lifeless form of the man that had become his family and, without so much as looking at Peter, he turned and left Tony behind.

Peter was frozen.

Then he crumbled.

"No!" He cried out over and over again, to no avail. "No, Tony! Tony! Don't! Noo-"

Suddenly there was a strong grip on his shoulders but he was too far gone. He didn't want anyone to comfort him. He wanted Tony to be alive. He wanted-

With all his might he struggled against the other person's hands until he heard a curse.

"Dammit, kid."

"Tony."

"Right here, buddy. Go on, open your eyes. Admire the shiner you gave your old man."

The teenager came back to himself slowly, blinking warily against the bright lights until he could get his eyes to focus on the person in front of him. The air left his lungs in a painful gasp. "Tony." Before he could grab at the man, he was already sitting down beside him, inviting Peter to curl around his upper body. Which he did without hesitation.

He was still shaking and the image – it had seemed so real, so final.

Tony held him while he cried, his heartbeat steady and not connected to any sort of blueish light. It still had time. So much time.

Tony was really here. He could feel the calloused fingers against the soft skin of his neck and smell the motor oil and his cologne. He could hear his even breathing and the very real taste of his salty tears. And when he blinked, Tony was looking at him with the softest expression he had ever seen, only marred by the deep lines of worry on his face.

"Better?" he asked after a moment and Peter nodded but didn't make a move to uncurl from the billionaire.

"You wanna talk about it?" The voice didn't really leave room for him to actually deny. Postpone maybe but not completely deny.

He shrugged instead and settled his cheek more firmly against his mentor's chest, letting his eyes drop close to the feeling of being secure and both of them being away from harm.

"Saw Cap hurt you," he mumbled into the soft fabric of Tony's t-shirt, half hoping the man hadn't heard him, half hoping for reassurance that the guy clad in the American flag hadn't really done any harm.

"Oh buddy, you're having nightmares about that now?" Tony's voice was soft but sad as his fingers skillfully rubbed the nape of his neck, "I told you it's going to be fine. I thought me allowing you to tag along would help you relax a little. Maybe it was a bad ide-"

"No," Peter interrupted him, arms coming up to hold onto his mentor back more tightly, "No, it's not a bad idea, I promise."

"Okay," Tony said reluctantly but didn't further comment on it, opting to distract him from the lingering horror of his nightmare instead. "You wanna go in there as New York's favorite vigilante in spandex or like a normal human being?"

Despite himself Peter cracked a smile. It faded the second he remembered the fear in Tony's eyes in his nightmare. He shuddered. "N-not in the suit," he said quietly, "If that's okay?"

The older man paused the massage on his scalp, clearly trying to figure out what was wrong with the suit, but eventually shrugged and resumed what he was doing. "Sure thing, kiddo. I'll introduce you as my genius intern who's freaking out about meeting the Avengers for the first time. We might be able to score you an autograph."

"You suck." Peter slapped Tony's chest lightly, his words holding no force. "I'd like going in as Peter Parker," he yawned, making himself more comfortable in Tony's hold. He smiled when the other man adjusted his position, clearly not intending to leave Peter alone for now.

"Sleep, kid. Tomorrow's gonna be a big day for both of us."

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 **A/N** : Okay, so, I'm really sorry that this sucks. Peter was meant to meet the other Avengers in this chapter but I physically couldn't bring myself to write the words. I started this about three times and there was just no way to get it across and I'm so sorry because I know some of you were looking forward to it.

As a consolation I promise to upload the next chapter (which I think turned out quite nice) very soon after. Sorry again.


	6. I'm Atlas (I Carry The Sky)

**A/N:** So, last one! I hope you enjoy this and thank you again for your kind reviews! I'm crazy busy right now so most of the time I don't reply but I read them and they make my day so thank you for tagging along 3

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Today was a good day.

Like, a _good_ day as in the sun was shining, tickling Peter's nose through the classroom window and when he got out it was neither too warm nor too hot.

Good as in Flash was out sick, they had gotten back two tests both of which he had aced and Ned kept going on and on about the latest Lego newsletter and all the new sets in it.

Good as in it was Friday and he would spent the weekend with Tony at the tower with May, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy joining them for a movie night on Saturday.

It was an almost suspiciously good day.

Peter tried to shove that nagging voice in his head somewhere in the deep abysses of his mind because he would not let his stupid anxiety ruin this perfectly fine day for him. Much to his own surprise it actually worked for once, leaving him to stroll through the floors one last time that week with a clear head and a big smile.

"Are you planning on _going out_ before heading to Mr. Stark's?"

They had stopped walking, standing just outside the school doors, and Ned was looking at him excitedly, voice skipping very inconspicuously when he emphasized his secret coded message. Peter was too happy to point it out to him, though, and there was no one around anyway so he just shook his head while enjoying the warm sun on his face.

"Nope, Tony has the suit for reparation after a teensy tiny knife fight on Wednesday," he told his guy-in-the-chair with a sheepish smile and what he hoped were an innocent flutter of his eyelashes. "I'll go out when I get to the tower, though, I'm sure he's already been done with it since like the middle of the night on Wednesday but he's a little mad about me getting stabbed in the first place so he's drawing it out."

Ned stared at him for him minute before letting out a huff that was half annoyed, half amused. "Well, at least he's giving you the don't-get-stabbed-talk so I don't have to. Seriously, dude, you're supposed to avoid getting hit."

"Well, gee, now that you say that it makes so much more sense," he shot back with an eye roll, digging through his backpack with one hand looking for his phone, "Are you taking the bus home?"

"Nah, my mum's picking me up so I can help her grocery shopping."

Peter grimaced sympathetically but pulled out his phone and headphones in triumph, "But at least you'll get to choose which flavor Doritos she's buying. Ah, man," he sighed when his phone gave a sad beep before shutting down, "Can I have your phone real quick to text Tony that I'm walking over?"

His best friend was suddenly incapable of forming sentences. "You wanna. Text, uh, Tony real quick," he repeated, eyes widening and Peter had to work really hard to stifle a laugh. "You, uh, Tony Stark. My phone. Uh."

"Ned?" He waved his hand in front of the star-struck teenager before simply grabbing the phone he had been asking for from Ned's lax grip. It took him a minute to type a message and send it to one of the three numbers he actually knew by heart (For emergencies, something May had insisted on since he'd been able to count) and when he was done and the phone back in Ned's grasp the boy was still blinking ahead stupidly. That is, until a car honked loudly and his mum called for him.

He gave his friend a gentle shove in the right direction before patting his back and saying his goodbyes and greetings to Mrs. Leeds. "See you tomorrow!"

Then Peter was alone and started walking in the direction of the tower, phone and headphones back in his backpack, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and with a happy skip in his step. He absorbed the noises of the city, the honking of cars, occasional shouts and bustling people, enjoying the normality of it all. It were moments like these when he felt like a normal teenager. Right now his enhanced senses weren't bothering him, they were simply a way to feel more of the beauty of the day, they made him special without standing out.

He'd been born and raised in New York and the loud noises on the street actually held familiarity when they weren't overwhelming him. On days like these, when he was at peace with the world and himself, he liked that it was never really quiet and that he was never really alone but rather part of something. He was part of a group of people who were all doing their own thing without knowing what the person next to them was going through.

There was a beauty to that kind of anonymity and connectivity –

A scream pulled him out of his musings. A barely audible cry for help. A kid's voice.

The second his brain had registered the noise and filed it under _important_ and ' _immediate reaction advised'_ the back of his neck started buzzing. It was an unpleasant feeling that Ned liked to call his Spidey sense and that was useful about five out of ten times. And of course it would start going off when he had already established that there was something going on.

Still, he let the hum urge him on and it didn't take him long to make out what was making the child scream.

There, towering above him, was a skyscraper and it was burning.

A large crowd of people were already assembled in front of the building in a safe distance, ambulances standing all around while several fire workers were working on putting out the fire. Strangely enough there was significantly less uproar and turmoil in the masses than he had expected.

They all seemed weirdly… settled. Scared, dusty and covered in small bruises but not as if they were looking for someone. The fire workers were only running out of the building, no one was charging _in_ to save the child.

"What's going on?" he asked a middle- aged man who was staring up at the fire, face scrunched up in worry.

He looked down at the kid before telling him that the fire alarm had started half an hour ago and that luckily everyone inside had already been saved and when he started talking about property damage and insurance Peter broke away.

"Hey! Sorry!" He yelled, sprinting over to the barrier to get the fire workers' attention. "Hey! There's someone still in there! There's-" His voice broke off but luckily a woman had heard him and he could only hope that she would listen because being so close to a building that was destined to collapse was doing wonders for his state of mind.

"Calm down, sweetie. There's no one in there. We checked every floor." He hated adults with a passion just then. He hated not having his suit with him. They would've listened to Spider- Man.

"I swear, there's someone still in there! I- It's," he spluttered, heart beating too fast and breaths coming in too shaky to form a real sentence let alone thought. "You need- You need to check again!"

She looked at him with compassion but damn her he didn't want compassion. "We will check again, okay, but we can't go that high up anymore, the fire's been working through the building's core. But we'll look for your brother, okay? What's your name? You might want to-"

Peter had already slipped away, pure panic gripping his heart at the sight in front of him. But he could still hear the voice. It was interrupted by more coughing with every scream but the kid was there and the fire worker's weren't fast enough and-

Without thinking he doubled back and went to the back of the building where no one was watching before starting his climb up.

His hands were sweating but he couldn't think about how he could fall to his death with just a wrong step, he couldn't think of-

"Mommy! Please!"

The kid's voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts and it was so close now. He must be on the right floor. He just needed to get inside. Of course it was one of the floors that had flames leaking out at the sides.

Funnily enough his hand wasn't shaking when he lifted it from the side of the building to throw a punch into a nearby window. His hand was steady even when his whole body was vibrating with pure, unadulterated fear.

"Hello?" he tried, voice choking on his spit, as he climbed through the shattered window awkwardly. Shards of glass were ripping through his clothes and skin but he ignored them in favor of trying to orientate himself and listening for a reply.

There was none and for a moment he felt like passing out. Oh god, what if this was the wrong floor?

There was, however, a tiny whimper somewhere to his right.

Peter dropped down to his knees and adjusted his hoodie so it was at least covering his mouth before slowly crawling through the – not yet burning – remains of a living room until he reached a little boy, not older than four that was cowering behind a turned table.

"Hey, I'm Peter," the teenager tried to address him before he touched him, worried the boy would freak out, but the second he realized that there was someone else there, he leaped up and clung to him like he was a lifeline. Which, he probably was in that moment. At least the hope for one.

"I-I'm s-so sc-sca-red," he hiccupped into Peter's neck who was holding tightly onto the tiny body in his arms, trying to sooth him through patting his hair in a similar fashion May and Tony usually did for him. He's mind was going into overdrive figuring out how to get out but he couldn't move them before he hadn't calmed him down at least a little bit. "M-my m-mommy went d-downs-stairs a-and-" he broke off into another sob and Peter shushed him gently.

"It's okay, I'm getting you out," he whispered softly and, really, he thought he was doing a fantastic job at keeping the appearance of calm. "We just need to get to the window and then we can climb out, okay? Can you climb? What's your name, buddy?"

The little boy nodded and introduced himself as Sam and he was glad because if he was responsive then Peter could just keep on rambling to ignore the fact that every single fiber in his body was screaming ' _You're gonna die'_ all at once.

Together they made their way over to where Peter had come in from. But the crawl was going so slowly, too slowly. He needed to get ou-

With a loud bang part of the ceiling came crashing down.

 _Nononononono_

Peter let go of the boy as gently as he could which wasn't all that gently and the kid whimpered again, pulling the backpack off of Peter's back when he was in the middle of turning around. He let him though, his entire being focused on the rubble that was blocking their way to the window.

It was dusty and everything was burning and water was dripping from the burst pipes.

He fell to his knees. He couldn't do this.

He couldn't. He would die. He couldn't get out. There was too much, too-

Another crack and he reacted before he fully realized what was happening and then he was there again. He was holding up part of the ceiling, rubble and debris coming down on him and Sam was screaming.

 _Oh god. Sam._

Peter blinked, biting back the scream at the bottom of his throat and blinking through the tears running down his cheeks.

"It's okay," he managed to choke out, "It's gonna be okay."

His heart would combust. He was sure of it. There was no way he could survive this again. There was no way the building wouldn't crush him this time. Squish him like a tiny bug. Like he had no backbone at all. He was Atlas, carrying the sky, stopping two worlds from colliding, only he wasn't strong enough.

God.

"May," he sobbed, legs shaking under the weight of the concrete and with the burden of his panic. "T-Tony."

He couldn't do this. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't –

In front of him sat Sam, tiny body shaking with sobs as he clung to the backpack he had ripped from Peter's back. His backpack –

Yes! He almost cried with relief when he realized what that meant. But he was already crying anyway so maybe his tears were just mixing at this point.

 _Focus, Peter._

"S-sam?" he managed to get out through gritted tears, thankful that the boy seemed to trust him enough to immediately sit up at his voice. Then again, he _was_ currently holding up the part of the building that would've smashed them both otherwise.

 _Let's not think about that._

"Can you open my backpack?" he asked, trying to breathe through the panic that was still rolling over him in waves, threatening to take over, threatening to drown him. Nope. He had to get this done. Then he'd deal with his panic. "G-great, now do you see Ironman?"

 _One breath. Two breaths. Steady._

"You need to press the side of his heel," he instructed the boy who nodded ferociously and did as he was told. Peter heard the faint sound telling him that the emergency message, including their current location, had been sent and now there was actually some relief in his panic.

"Will Ironman come to save us now?"

The voice sounded so tiny and, really, all Peter wanted to do was say yes, break down and let Tony save the day but Sam would _die_ if he let go.

"Yeah, he will," he managed to choke out anyway, "H-he'll save us." Only Peter wasn't sure he wouldn't collapse before that.

 _One breath. Two brea –_

The smoke in his lungs made him choke and his head snap up. The smoke was getting thicker by the minute and he already couldn't breathe properly.

"S-sam." _One breath_. "You need to." _Two breaths_. "Cover your nose." _Three breaths._ "And mouth."

But the boy was shaking again, obviously having realized that he wasn't getting enough air either, and Peter couldn't comfort him because he was trying to keep them from dying and he was trying not to let the weight crush him and he was-

"Sam. Press down on the blue thing, okay?" _He couldn't breathe_. "Gr-great. Just h-hide y-your face i-in the bl-blue light." _One more inhale. Just one more_. "That's g-good. O-okay, s-stay l-like th-that. 'S g-gonna gonna b-be o-okay." _Exhale._

Part of him relaxed when he saw Sam do as he was told but that gave all the other parts of time to focus on his barely suppressed panic. Which was not good.

Breathing. He had to keep breathing. He couldn't but he had to.

 _One. Two._

He broke off with a sob, panting through the hoodie over his mouth. He couldn't do it. His lungs wouldn't open and even if they did, they would inhale smoke and dust and death and –

Gritting his teeth, Peter tried to stand up a little straighter and he started counting again. Tony would be there. Tony would come. He'd just have to survive until then.

 _One. Two. Thr-_

The building moved and he let out a scream when some part of the ceiling impaled his back. No. Gaze fixated on the little boy, he bit back another scream and took another breath.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

He made it.

He made it through five breaths.

His heart was still beating too fast, his breathing was still coming out in gasps and his entire body was on fire but he made it through five breaths. He could do five more.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

With his eyes closed he imagined May standing next to him, her gentle hand on his upper arm and her warm smile resonating through his chest. May would never let him suffocate.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

His breaths were evening out.

Ned was rooting for him. He was clutching his hand with one hand and gave him a thumbs up with the other. His smile was pained but he was being strong for Peter. Ned believed he could do it.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

His galloping heart was slowing down.

He half expected Tony to join the group next and he almost staggered when his Uncle's hand found his waist, the touch soothing some of the pain. His Uncle would help him carry the building.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

His body slowly stopped shaking.

Tony was standing right in front of him, a look of worried conviction flickering in his eyes. When he blinked it was gone and all that was left was love and pride and then a hand came to ruffle his hair and he lowered his head, letting the panicked tension leak out of his body. Tony would come.

Peter blinked when he felt his vitals had returned to normal. Well, as normal as they could be in a life threatening situation. He was thankful for the adrenalin coursing through his blood, certain that it was the only thing keeping the post-panic-attack fatigue at bay.

"Hey Sam," he spoke up, voice scratchy with dust and smoke but steady and calm, "Are you holding up? Tony'll be here any second, I swear."

The boy had barely time to mumble an affirmative into the plushy before Peter could hear the sounds of repulsors closing in on them and suddenly the ceiling wasn't as heavy anymore.

When he looked up from Sam, he found War Machine standing beside him, helping him hold up the building and Vision came flying through the path Rhodey had cleared on his way. The corner of his lips tucked up in tired satisfaction when he watched the android pick Sam up and retreat back to safety.

The boy was safe. He wasn't carrying the sky anymore. The adrenalin leaked out of his body with the tension and Peter collapsed forward.

He never hit the ground though. Instead he hit the cool metal of the Iron- Man suit that enveloped him in strong metal arms and picked him up as if he weight nothing. He really did feel weightless just then. And so tired.

"Thanks for saving us," he mumbled between coughs as he let his body go limp. His head fell to the shoulder of the suit and, it wasn't the physical contact he was craving but it was something he associated with safety and so he let his mind drift, too. The last thing he picked up before everything went black was Tony's voice, a little tinny through the suit.

"You did all the saving, squirt. We're just providing the getaway car."

* * *

Peter was hunched over his desk in the work shop, eyes squinted in concentration, tongue tucked between his front teeth and fingers moving quickly yet meticulously. Everything had to be perfect. This project had big shoes to fill.

"You done yet, kid?"

He looked up with a crocked smile, stopping his motions, when his mentor wandered over and heavy hands settled on his shoulders. His thumbs rubbed circles into his shoulder blades, letting Peter relax in his grasp while the tension from sitting still for so long slowly leaked out of him.

"Won't get done if you keep doing that," he mumbled in halfhearted complaint but didn't move out of Tony's personal space who seemed content to stay right where he was.

The older man chuckled, fingers now running through Peter's curly strands. "Want me to help you?"

"Nope, you're doing the tech and I'm getting the software done," he insisted, "Since you wouldn't let me help last time."

Now the billionaire was full on laughing and Peter grinned. He had long since learned to cherish every one of Tony's honest laughs and he prided himself on tickling them out of him more and more often. Some days tickling was actually involved. But not today. Today was a calm day spent in the lab where they mostly moved around in silence, throwing ideas back and forth every once in a while, and took a break from their usually busy lives. A wonderful kind of boring. Just what he needed.

"Software, really?" came the fond reply, "How long have you been sitting on that one?"

"Let's just say I've been hoping you'd ask me for help for half an hour now," he grinned back, earning yet another chuckle. He was leaning against Tony's chest at this point and so the tiny vibrations the emotion prompted swept through his own body like a wave of warmth and home.

It had been so quiet earlier that it had gotten Peter thinking on how he was really missing his StarkPal that hadn't been salvageable after almost catching on fire two days ago. Thinking back, he was sure Tony had already had plans to make him a new one, but as it was he had suggested they start working on one and while his mentor had figured out how to rebuild the tech (because, let's be honest he was a lot faster at that stuff), Peter had jumped at the opportunity to sew the plushy.

He had done fairly well, too, considering Tony had only taught him how to use a sewing machine four hours ago.

"I'm done, I think," he said, disrupting the comfortable silence that had descended on them, "Only way to tell is to turn him inside out and take a look."

"Ready for the big reveal?"

Truth be told, the plushy wasn't as perfectly executed as the first one that Tony had sewn but Peter couldn't care less. Not when Tony looked at him like he had just single handedly managed world peace. Not when, after they had put the tech back in, the blue light was glowing as reassuringly as ever and the heartbeat matched the one that had gotten him through so many bad days.

Friday had been awful. Yet, somehow he had fought through his own demons and surprisingly enough he had come out on top. And he was really freaking proud of that.

"Thank you," he whispered, plushy tucked under his arm as he reached out to engulf Tony in a bone crushing hug. He was so grateful, so unbelievably lucky to have all these people on his side. There was no way he would ever be able to put it into words, so he didn't try past a, "Thank you for believing in me."

Because that was what they did. That was what made him strong. That was what made him hope that someday he would be fine on his own.

"Love you, kid."

Peter smiled. "I know."


End file.
